I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.
A fair assurance this! It was no doubt based upon a promise, inwardly whispered in the psalmist’s heart, which he seized upon and enjoyed. Is my case like that of David? Am I depressed because the enemy affronts me? Are there multitudes against me, and few on my side? Does unbelief bid me lie down and die in despair—a defeated, dishonored man? Do my enemies begin to dig my grave?
What then? Shall I yield to the whisper of fear, and give up the battle, and with it give up all hope? Far from it. There is life in me yet: “I shall not die.” Vigor will return and remove my weakness: “I shall live.” The Lord lives, and I shall live also. My mouth shall again be opened: “I shall declare the works of Jehovah.” Yes, and I shall speak of the present trouble as another instance of the wonder-working faithfulness and love of the Lord my God. Those who would gladly measure me for my coffin had better wait for a bit; for “the Lord hath chastened me sore, but he hath not given me over unto death!” Glory be to his name for ever! I am immortal till my work is done. Till the Lord wills it, no vault can close upon me.